and in the end gains a modest success which is well deserved. It is the custom of many persons in ordinary life to sneer at a book agent and show him scant courtesy, forgetting that the agent’s business is a perfectly legitimate one and that he is therefore entitled to due respect so long as he does that which is proper and gentlemanly. A kind word costs nothing, and it often cheers up a heart which would otherwise be all but hopelessly depressed. After reading this volume it may be thought by some that the hero, Frank Hardy, is above his class in tact, intelligence, and perseverance. This, however, is not true. A book agent, or, in fact, an agent of any kind, must possess all of these qualities in a marked degree, otherwise he will undoubtedly make a failure of the undertaking. As in every other calling, to win success one must first deserve it. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. FRANK AT HOME 1 II. DOWN AT THE WRECK 9 III. DISAGREEABLE NEWS 17 IV. THE HUNT FOR A MISSING MAN 25 V. FRANK AT THE STORE 34 VI. THE RIVAL MERCHANTS 42 VII. A FOURTH OF JULY CELEBRATION 50 VIII. FRANK LOOKS FOR WORK 58 IX. FRANK MEETS A BOOK AGENT 67 X. FRANK GOES TO NEW YORK 76 XI. FRANK AS AN AGENT 86 XII. A BRIGHT BEGINNING 96 XIII. FRANK ON THE ROAD 108 XIV. A BOY RUNAWAY 118 XV. CAUGHT IN A STORM 127 XVI. AN IMPORTANT SALE 136 XVII. A CURIOUS HAPPENING 145 XVIII. THE WOULD-BE ACTOR 153 XIX. GIVING AN AUTOGRAPH 162 XX. FRANK’S REMARKABLE FIND 171 XXI. GABE FLECKER SHOWS HIS HAND 180 XXII. THE RIVAL BOOK AGENT 189 XXIII. NEWS FROM HOME 197 XXIV. LOST IN A COAL MINE 205 XXV. FRANK MEETS FLECKER AGAIN 214 XXVI. AN ESCAPE 224 XXVII. AT HOME ONCE MORE 232 XXVIII. FRANK STARTS FOR THE SOUTH 242 XXIX. A SCENE ON THE TRAIN 249 XXX. FRANK MEETS HIS BROTHER MARK 257 XXXI. A CLEVER CAPTURE—CONCLUSION 264 ------------------------------------------------------------------------ THE YOUNG BOOK AGENT CHAPTER I FRANK AT HOME FRANK HARDY came up the short garden path whistling merrily to himself. He was a tall, good-natured looking boy of sixteen, with dark eyes and dark, curly hair. “One more week of school and then hurrah for a long vacation in the country!” he murmured to himself as he mounted the piazza steps. “Oh, but won’t we have a dandy time swimming and fishing when we get to Cloverdale!” His little dog Frisky was at the door to greet him with short, sharp barks of pleasure. Frank caught the animal up and began to coddle him. “Glad to see me, eh?” he cried. “Frisky, won’t you be glad when we get to the country and you can roam all over the fields?” For answer the dog barked again and wagged his tail vigorously. Still holding the animal, Frank entered the dining room and passed into the kitchen, where his mother was assisting the servant in the preparation of the evening meal. “Mother, is father back from Philadelphia yet?” he asked, as he hung up his cap and slipped into the sink pantry to wash his hands. “Not yet, Frank,” answered Mrs. Hardy. “He must have quite some business to attend to, to stay away so late. I thought I was late myself.” “You are late, Frank—it is quarter after six. I expected your father in on the half-past five train, but he must have missed that.” “Then he won’t be here until nearly eight o’clock. Must I wait for...